“Oops.” I cover my mouth. “I guess I couldn’t contain my excitement.”
“Over getting a job?” He laughs.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I worked hard in school, and it feels good to see it finally paying off. I graduated at the top of my class and passed the CPA certification on the first try. I’m excited to work.”
Brody’s face sobers. “My dad loves working too.” He doesn’t say it, but I can hear it in his tone—his dad works a lot.
“Speaking of which, what are you doing here?” The last I heard, he was supposed to spend the day in his dad’s office doing schoolwork since he’s suspended.
“Dad got caught up in his meetings and forgot about lunch.” He shrugs, acting like it’s no big deal. “I ordered a shitload of food, so I came to see if you wanted to join me.” My heart aches for the sadness in Brody’s words. He’s lonely, craving attention, and his dad doesn’t see it. I only do because I can relate. Before my mom took off and my dad lost custody of me, all I ever craved was their attention, but the only thing they craved was the drugs they were addicted to. Ben isn’t addicted to drugs, but it’s clear, based on what Brody’s just said, he might be addicted to his work.
“I’d love to.” I don’t have any plans for the rest of the day anyway.
Brody grants me a small smile. “Cool.”
I say goodbye to Doris, who works in HR, on my way out and follow Brody to the elevator. When we get off on the top floor, the large sign in the expansive, opulent lobby reads: Fields Enterprises.
“Your dad works here?” The company owns the entire building, and from what Doris said, it’s worth millions.
“My dad is Benjamin Fields. He owns the company and this building.”
Well, Christ on a cracker. Who knew Mr. Uptight was some big shot business owner? He mentioned owning some clubs… Guess this explains why he’s a workaholic.
When my features display my shock, Brody chuckles. “One day, I’m going to work here too.” The pride in his voice makes me wonder if Ben knows how much his son looks up to him.
Brody shows me back to Ben’s office, which makes mine look like a cubicle. The entire eastern wall is glass, showing off the beauty of Central Park, and in the far corner is a table and chairs that seat eight people. A couch and loveseat are set up in another area with a massive oak desk. I swear this office is bigger than most people’s apartments.
“The food should be here soon,” Brody says. “I’ll go grab us some drinks. What do you drink?”
“Any chance you have sweet tea?”
“We should.”
“Can you point me in the direction of the bathroom?” It’s been a long morning, and I need to use the bathroom and freshen up.
“Yeah, umm… it’s straight down the hall. Make a right, and then it’s on the left, I think. My dad has a bathroom in here…” He points at the closed door. “But he forgot to unlock it.”
“Thanks.” I find the bathroom quickly, and after relieving myself and washing my hands, I head back. Somewhere along the way, though, I must make a wrong turn because the next thing I know, I’m walking into a conference room where a meeting is being held by none other than Benjamin Fields. Everyone is quiet as he speaks, his tone brooking no room for argument. It’s clear he’s not reprimanding anyone, but he means business. He isn’t rude in any way, but he’s authoritative. Every word demands respect. His employees are all typing away on their laptops, I’m sure taking notes.
My thoughts go back to the past few mornings at the gym. How serious he was about his precious treadmill and workout. When the other one made a horrible screeching noise that sounded like a poor cat on his death bed, he almost lost it. It was so much fun to see him all riled up. I planned to return anyway, but seeing the look on his face when he arrived early, and I was already there… Priceless.
Oh! And when I asked if I could call him Benji or Benny… The way he corrected me all deadpan and broody like the idea of his name being shortened was going to give him an anxiety attack.
Before I can stop myself, I let out an extremely unladylike snort, capturing everyone in the room’s attention, including Ben—yeah, I refuse to call him Benjamin. Our eyes meet, and the wolfish look in his gaze has the V between my legs tightening.
“Can I help you?” His question comes out more like a demand. His voice is deep and throaty, dripping with sexy confidence. I briefly wonder if he’s this way in all aspects of his life. I bet he fucks the way he runs his company—with complete and utter control.
Images of him tying me up and having his way with me flicker through my brain, heading straight to my lady parts. Would he let me ride him or demand to be on top? I bet his dick is big, too. Neil was extremely insecure, and he had a small dick. Ben, on the other hand, seems very, very sure of himself.
“Ms. Cartwright, can I help you?” he asks again, popping my fantasy bubble.
I clear my throat. “No… umm… Yes?” I squeak out.
He tilts his head to the side slightly. “Which is it? No or yes? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in the middle of conducting a meeting right now.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but when he raises a single brow in what looks like half-curiosity, half-impatience, the words just fly out. “Sorry to interrupt, Benji”—his team of employees gasp at the nickname—“Brody ordered lunch, and I was wondering when you’ll be joining us.” It’s a simple question, but my tone conveys how I feel about him forgetting about his son.
Ben’s jaw ticks, no doubt in anger and probably annoyance, but I can also spot a hint of regret. He glances down at his watch, then looks back at me. “It would seem I lost track of time.” He turns his attention to his employees. “Everyone, go ahead and break for lunch. We’ll reconvene in thirty minutes.”
“Make it sixty,” I say. “Thirty minutes is hardly enough time to eat lunch.”
His eyes go wide, and a devilish smirk plays in the corner of his mouth as his employees’ gazes volley between the two of us, waiting for their boss to confirm one way or the other. “Sixty minutes.” He shakes his head slightly as if he can’t believe he’s agreeing to something so ludicrous.
Once everyone is gone, and it’s only the two of us, Ben closes his laptop and stalks over to me, only stopping once he’s cornered me against the wall with our faces mere inches apart. Up close, his hazel eyes are like nothing I’ve ever seen—different shades of greens and blues and browns all mixed in a beautiful, chaotic way. His chocolate brown hair is cut short on the sides and slightly longer on the top. My fingers itch to run through the strands to see if his hair is as soft as it looks. He’s sporting several days of stubble, yet it’s trimmed neatly. When his eyes sear into mine and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, I wonder what it would feel like to kiss him, like really kiss him. So deep his stubble would burn my face. And then my thoughts shift, as I imagine that same stubble burning between my legs as he licks his way—
“Nobody interrupts my meetings, ever,” he says, knocking me out of my erotic fantasy. “They don’t argue with me or question me, and they sure as hell don’t call me Benji. Who the hell are you, and what are you doing to me?” His questions come out less accusatory and more in wonderment. They’re clearly rhetorical, more or less aimed at himself.